Double Triangles
by AprilGrey
Summary: What happened 16 years before the movie and how did it affect what went on just after?


Double Triangles

By April Grey

PG-13

(GB fanfic based on the movie version of Webber's Phantom of the Opera)

These characters belong to G. Leroux and A.L. Webber and I make no claim on them.

"Nan, if you marry that old, fat pig, Marcel Giry, I will never speak to you again." Erik, seventeen years old and trembling with pain and humiliation, pulled on his cloth mask almost ripping it in the process. He didn't want her to see him cry.

Nanette hung her head, "If that is how you wish it to be." Tears falling, she walked up out of his dark domain to the gaudy lights and fresh air of the Paris Operato a man with more money than brains who would marry her and give her a life Erik could never manage.

Sixteen years later, Madame Giry watched as the world of the Paris Opera collapsed amid shattering crystal and fire. The seed planted when she was still in her teens had come to fruition.

&&&

I entered the Phantom's lair and searched, not knowing what I would find or even why I had raced ahead of the rest of the rescue party. It was not just that the monster had kidnapped my friend, Christine. No, there was more to it than that. My mother was keeping some sort of secret. I had begged Mama to tell me, but she refused.

I walked through the caves, astonished by the lush living arrangements that the Phantom had created for himself. The smashed mirrors alone must have cost a fortune, and the pipe organ was of the highest quality. I stared at the miniature theatre, complete with figurines of myself and the other performers of the Opera.

When I found his white mask and a small windup music box with a monkey, goose bumps came up all over my body and I shivered in the caverns damp air. I dared not believe it, but the Phantom was truly gone.

Upstairs, the stench of the smoldering mess that remained of the stage and auditorium stung my nose. The Opera's fire brigade was kept backstage for all shows in case a fire should occur from the lights, but the panicking crowd had hindered them from doing their job, and the fire had almost grown out of control. Nonetheless, I was sure that the Opera house was still sound.

I spotted my mother, Christine and the Viscount De Chagny huddled together in a dark corner of the backstage. Christine was wrapped in a blanket and crying. "Thank God, Christine, you are freed from the monster," I said as I ran up to them. They stared at me for a moment. I think we were all in shock.

"Christine?" She did not answer me, but looked down and shuddered. The Viscount put his arm around her.

"I insist that you come to my parent's estate to recover," said the Viscount.

Christine, choking back a sob, replied. "My home is here, Raoul."

"But what if he tries to take you again?"

"Please, Raoul. He will cause us no more problemsI will be safe here."

"Madame Giry," his blue eyes silently pleaded with my mother.

"Christine, no arguments. You have been through a terrible ordeal and need to be kept warm if you are not to become ill. The dormitories are closed because the boiler-room flooded from all the water pumped for the fire. Go stay with the Viscount." She smiled. I wondered what was going on. Mama seemed most impatient to see my friend go.

Christine hugged my mother and then me. "I shall miss you both," she said as she blew her nose in a fancy linen handkerchief provided by the Viscount.

"I'll see you soon," I waved at their retreating forms and then I turned to my mother.

"Mama, I will ask you one last time. What is happening here? Who or what is the Phantom to you?"

Her eyes darted around the backstage, but there was no one in hearing range.

"Come, let us collect a few things to take with us. Almost everyone from the dormitories will be staying at the Chanticleer Inn down the alleyway. The theatre owners have agreed to pay our rent there. We must hurry or there will be no rooms left. I will tell you more later, but only as much as I feel is appropriate and not one word more."

Still wet and freezing from the sub-cellars below, I followed her as best I could.

As she packed her bag, I took off my wet clothing and put on one of her robes. I sipped some brandy, which burned my throat but made me feel warm again. Watching her, I had a sudden intuition.

"You mean to find him, don't you?"

She bowed her head and sighed. "Go get ready, and I will wait for you by the alleyway."

"Who is he, Mama, besides being a killer and a madman?"

I thought for a moment she would strike me because her eyes had filled with such fire. But she shrugged and poured a tot of brandy for herself.

"Such stupid questions, Meg. Hurry up, girl."

I ran and grabbed my few belongings. She was waiting for me at the door to the alley. It was still filled with reporters and the curious although it was nearly dawn. Mama almost flew to the inn and again I wondered what was this fire that had filled her?

Once settled in our room, I unpacked. My mother poured herself more brandy and I worried a little over the amount she was drinking.

"Please, Mama, you said you would tell me."

"You will stay here while I go find Erik."

"Find who?"

"The man you call the Phantom. His name is Erik. I trust you will keep that to yourself, Meg?"

"Of course! Please tell me more. Is he a friend?"

"He and I quarreled many years ago. But we were good friends once. When I married your father, Erik said he would never speak to me again. I never see him for more than a second or two, when he gives me notes. He has never forgiven me for abandoning him."

I sat down on a ramshackle chair, one of a matched set of decrepit furniture that belonged to the tiny, and not very clean, room. Was the Phantom a rival to my father? I tried to catch my breath.

"When your father died three years ago, I returned to the Opera to be close to you in the dormitory. Sometimes I thought I heard Erik watching me from the walls. And then, only a few months ago, he began to write me."

She opened her reticule and removed a small packet of lettersall of the same distinctive, black-bordered stationery that the Phantom was reputed to have used.

"Erik needed my help. He told me that he had decided to tutor Christine because her voice showed potential. At first I felt a little resentful that he should have overlooked you." Mama smiled and swallowed a bit more brandy. I had never seen her take more than a few sips before. I put my hand over hers and felt how chilled she was. I picked up her hand and held it to my face to warm it.

My mother's eyes reddened, "But then when I realized that Erik was developing feelings for Christine, I did not know what to think or feel. I care for them both, but I knew Christine was in love with the Viscount."

"When did you realize that the Phantom loved Christine?"

"At the masked ball. I would have thought it was obvious to everyone there. He was making a fool out of himself over her." A tear dripped down her face.

I tried to hug her, but she immediately pulled back, while hastily swiping at the tear with her hand. I found a crumbled handkerchief in my pocket and gave it to her. My mind was swirling with the information she had given me. As long as I could remember, my mother had been so sad, so resigned to her life. When my father died and she returned to the Opera, she came alive a little. I attributed it to the fact that she loved dance and that her leaving her art was what had depressed her so. But what if her happiness was due to this man?

"Erik will be lost out there. And he is in danger from the police."

"If this man is as clever as everyone claims, I'm sure he will be fine." He must have been smart to escape the trap set for him.

My mother shook her head, "He will not be fine. I know him. You said he did not take his mask. He cannot abide for people to stare.

"Then let me help you, Mama."

"He always had a temper. The Viscount thinks Erik may have gone insane. It is too dangerous." She stood and swayed on her feet.

"Then go a bit later. First, you shall rest." I helped her to the bed we were sharing. I got her seated and removed her boots. I covered her with a thick, faded quilt. Soon her breathing changed and she was fast asleep.

I wrapped my heavy, black woolen cloak around me and went outside. The first streaks of dawn were brightening the Eastern sky. I did not know where to go. Mostly, I wanted the cold air to cleanse me from the smell of smoke in my hair and the memory of the scent of brandy on my mother's breath.

I walked around, watching the fruit and vegetable vendors getting ready for their day. I wondered how Christine was doing this morning. Living like a queen no doubt in the fancy mansion, or was it a palace, that belonged to the De Chagny family.

I heard a muffled sound, like a moan, from behind a refuse cart and my heart sped. I did not worry for my safety, after all there were many about, but my nerves were bad after the events of the night.

I looked for the source of the sound. And there, well hidden in the recess of the building, I found him sitting on the filthy ground. He looked like a devil who had just been booted out of Hell. Though I knew that he might be insane, I could not forget the light that had shone in my mother's eyes when she spoke of him.

I edged a bit closer.

"Little Meg?" I had heard his voice only once before. It sent a shiver down my back. No wonder Christine mistook him for an angel.

I placed my hand on my hip and thrust out my chin, although I was jelly inside. "I am not so little, Monsieur. Christine Daae is only a year—well, a year and a half older than me."

"Is that so?" The look on his face was one of dismay. "But you are only a child."

I felt like stamping my foot. "That is beside the point. I must tell you, Monsieur er, Erik. Mama is very worried about you. The police are looking for you."

"What a surprise. Would you like to turn me in?" His voice was heavy with exhaustion. "You could be famous. There will be a reward."

"Seeing Mama happy is all the reward I wish." A bitter taste came into my mouth even as I said the words. Why hadn't my father made her happy? Why couldn't I? What made this monster so special?

"Something has made you angry. Come, it is time I gave myself up."

I looked at him in disbelief, until I realized that I was staring at his deformity as well. I blushed. I was doing exactly what my mama had told me not to! "I'm sorry." I turned away.

"Please do not apologize. All who see me cannot help but enjoy the free show."

I looked then into his eyes; they were a very light color that seemed to change with any movement of his head. It was better to look into his eyes than at the abnormality that so marred him. Something there in his eyes melted the coldness in me a little. "We must hide you."

"How much do you know? How much did your mother say?" He made no move to get up and I was filled with the fear that he meant to stay there until he was discovered.

"My mother will be very angry with me if the police find you. You know they will hang you for Piangi's murder."

"Leave. You make yourself an accomplice by offering to hide me." His words were filled with arrogance and something else, self-pity?

"You stubborn man! You ingrate. I should leave you there." He looked away from me, perhaps stung my sharp words. I licked my lips, praying to be inspired with the right words. "Please, Erik. If you do not wish me to get in trouble with my Mama, you will cover your face with my cloak and let me sneak you into our room. It is not far from here."

It was stupid to take him where people from the Opera were staying, but my mind felt filled with buzzing hornets. Mama would know what to do, yet I dared not leave him there to bring her to him.

I took off my cloak. I knelt down and pushed it into his hands, but he jerked back. I saw where a shard of glass had imbedded itself into his palm. Without thinking, I plucked out the shard and gave him my scarf to stop the bleeding.

Our eyes met and again I had that funny feeling inside of me. Perhaps he felt it too, for without further argument, he took my cloak and covered himself. We had to hurrywith every moment there were more people on the street.

From the laughter and loud conversation, it sounded like everyone was in the dining room having breakfast. We were up the stairs and into the room with not a soul seeing us. I heard him laugh quietly.

"What is it?" I asked, trying not to wake Mama who was asleep on the bed.

"I know everyone downstairsI recognize their voices. So my little escapade last night forced them all here. They would make a good lynch mob, no?"

I sat down on a chair and he pulled the other one up for himself. It creaked ominously under his weight.

"No. I hardly think the female chorus and dancers in training are that much of a threat. Though I have seen a serious catfight or two, and not a one would hesitate shouting out for the police. But how can you laugh? This is very serious. My friends and I are homeless until the boiler room is fixed. It is too cold this time of year to be without some heat."

"But the boiler will be fixed, and then the Opera will continueas if nothing had ever happened." His face twisted strangely, making him look even more like a demon.

It was so odd speaking to the Opera Phantom, well, Erik, as if we were old friends. But he had been with us all along, knew us all. He was Christine's angeland ours as well? No, he was a murderer. I pushed the thought from my mind.

"And so until then we will all be bored to tears. Will you be returning to your previous accommodation?" I scraped at a bit of hardened wax on the table.

"I shall be leaving," he said.

"Erik!" My mother had awakened.

He looked at her and a twitch of his lips turned into a sneer before he deliberately turned away from her.

"Meg, please go down and get yourself some breakfast." My mother was tucking in stray strands of hair and attempting to look presentable after her nap.

"No, Mama. I found him and I have a right to be kept in on this."

"Since Madame Giry and I are not on speaking terms, perhaps it might be best if you remained, Meg all-grown-up-now."

Mama looked from one to the other of us. "You are so alike."

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. Erik, stop being a child. There is no time for this. We must talk now."

A dark cloud of rage passed over his face. If I did not understand before, I understood now with that look that the man was capable of great violence.

"Meg, I need to discuss some things with Erik, in private."

"I will not leave you alone with him. He scares me."

Erik snorted.

"In the name of all that is holy, Meg, he won't hurt me."

I looked at Erik. His mood had changed again, now he was half-smiling.

"He is mad."

"Yes, quite mad." He opened his hands wide, "And I think it was your mother who drove me there. So Nanette, what is so important that you risk your safety as well as your daughters in harboring a fugitive?"

My mother stood up and in a martyred tone of voice said, "Very well, Meg, since you are 'so grown up now.' Perhaps you had best know." She paced and twisted her wedding ring around her finger. "And at least you spoke to me, Erik. That is the first time since I told you I was going to marry Marcel. Will you forgive me?"

"For choosing a man with a life over a man with nothing but a face ugly enough to be a circus attraction?"

"Yes," she said so low I could barely hear her.

"Very well. I do." He sounded more dangerous than ever.

"Good. Then I will tell you something else, which also requires forgiveness. Forgiveness from you both."

I blinked. I had a funny feeling that I was dreaming.

"Erik, Meg is your child."

What did she say? The room was very silent. I listened to the sounds coming from downstairs, and then he spoke.

"I find your sense of humor in very poor taste. I have never been with anyone in such a way." He was very quiet. Rather surprising for a maniac.

"No? No? Only you do not remember. But the headache after we drank that champagne you stole, I'm sure you remember that!"

His mouth looked odd. I think the scar tissue at the side of his face would not permit his mouth a perfect "O". "That time we were celebrating your acceptance into the corps de ballet? You were one of the youngest ever to become a leading ballerina."

"We finished the bottle and then opened another."

"I remember that." He sounded unsure of himself.

"I kissed you on the mouth. You became upset with me because I told you to get rid of that silly rag you wore as a mask. You tore it off and kissed me back."

"I did. I did kiss you. The only kiss I ever had until last night."

He had kissed Christine? My stomach churned. And did Mama say I was his child? Then they had to haveI sat on the bed, feeling ill.

"I remember the kiss. But" he slowly shook his head.

"I remember the kisses, Erik. And much more. But the next day, you remembered nothing."

"You should have told me!" His voice was the low hiss of a deadly serpent.

"And what would you have done? Gone out and got a job?"

"Yes."

"Let the world see you?"

"Yes, of course." He stared at me now as he slowly got to his feet and walked towards me. "Damn you, Nanette. What did you steal from me?"

"You were still wanted for murder at the fair. The description of you is easy to remember. No one else looks like you. Even now, no doubt they are putting the pieces together, murder at the fair and murder at the Paris Opera."

"We could have left the country."

"It was simpler to let Marcel think I had changed my mind on his marriage proposal."

I held my breath. Erik was midpoint between my mother and me. And I feared for her. He might kill her.

"You should have said something." I flinched at the sheer viciousness of his tone.

"And if I had told you that I was only marrying Marcel so our child could have a decent life? What would you have done?" She turned her back on him. I knew my mother was courageous, but this trust she had in him not to harm her was amazing.

"I would have strangled him, Nan, with supreme pleasure."

"True." She turned and faced him. "So, you see I was right in not telling you.

"Will you forgive me for giving our child the best that life had to offer? Way better than you could have given her?"

My mother's voice seemed to come from a thousand miles away. But even then, in spite of her harsh words, underneath I heard how much she loved him and needed him. How much she had sacrificed for me!

"Papa?"

Looking at his face sickened me. He had admitted what he was. Still, I forced myself to stand and take a step closer to this lunatic, my father! If he was what my Mama wanted, then the least I could do was go along.

He opened his arms to me and slowly, carefully, I rendered myself up into his embrace. I rested my head against his chest and felt his tears fall onto me. I could do this much for her sake; let him think he did not disgust me.

He held me for a long time. And then I felt my mother join us. I pulled away and watched her kiss his hideous cheek.

"You do forgive me, Erik?"

He touched his face where she kissed him with his bruised and cut hand.

I excused myself, saying that I needed breakfast. She was in his arms now, quietly crying, while he whispered into her ear.

After breakfast, I begged them to be allowed to stay alone at the inn with my friends until the Opera dormitories re-opened. My parents had to flee France that night and I did not wish to go with them. I believe the fear of my being caught with them and tried as an adult led them to agree to my staying. In one day, I went from child to adult. Often I cried because I missed my Mama.

Using the money Erik had extorted from the previous owner of the Opera, they traveled to far away places where he would be safe from the long memory of the Paris Police. On my vacations, I would visit them in cities such as Vienna, Dublin and Madrid.

In time, I came to accept the man who was known as the Phantom as my natural father. And while I do not know if he ever stopped loving Christine, it was obvious my mother was content simply that he was back in her life. My father, Erik, was a monster and a criminal, a genius and an artist. But none of that mattered, not one whit to me, because of the light in my mother's face whenever she looked on him.

I often wonder why I had been in such a hurry to grow up.

The End


End file.
